


A Dangerous Game

by RisingPhoenix761



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Asexual Character, BAMF Crowley, BDSM, Blood Kink, Bondage, Breathplay, Crowley (Supernatural) Being an Asshole, Edgeplay, Electricity, F/M, Fear Play, Fluff, Forced Masturbation, Humiliation, Impact Play, Innuendo, Knifeplay, Language, Magic, Masochism, Master/Pet, Politics, Praise Kink, Sadism, Sarcasm, Season 8 divergent, Smut, Subdrop, Vaginal Fingering, Violence, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-08-11 10:25:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16473782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RisingPhoenix761/pseuds/RisingPhoenix761
Summary: Ten years. No more and no less. Now the clock has run out and it's time to negotiate a new deal with the King of Hell.





	1. Dangerous Game

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween! This idea is only about two weeks old, and to be honest I'm scared to death about it! I'm still working out the timeline, but this starts post 8/pre 9. This can also be read as a reader insert, though I went with a first person POV.
> 
> And away we go!

 

_It's a_ _sin_ _with_ _no_ _name_

_Like a_ _hand_ _in a_ _flame_

_And_ _our_ _senses_ _proclaim_

_It's a_ _dangerous_ _game_

_Jekyll_ _and_ _Hyde, "_ _Dangerous_ _Game"_

***

I had my favorite dress on, a glass of wine in my hand while my favorite album played on the stereo. I had spent the past week in a haze of indulgence; fancy hotels, spa days, fantasy travel destinations, all was fair game for six days and nights before I went back to my own house to say goodbye to what friends I had left, then enjoy the comfort of my own home. While I could, that is.

There was no need to watch the clock. I had timed the music down to the very second. The last song would finish playing the instant my time ran out. Ten years, exactly. No more. No less.

Maybe I should have been scared--well, _more_ scared. These would be my last moments on Earth...but I didn't want them spoiled by fear. There would be eternity for that soon enough. Right now, the wine was sweet, the dress made me feel fabulous, and the music was like a cherished friend come to visit. For last moments, I think I could have done worse.

The last note faded out, and I took one last breath...

"Hello, darling."

I felt a shiver down my spine at the sound of the voice, soft with a slight rasp, nearly purring with satisfaction. It had been a decade since I heard that voice, but it hadn't changed at all. "Crowley," I said, keeping my voice calm and measured as I turned to face him. "Or is it Your Majesty?"

His smile held as much satisfaction as his voice. I assessed him in one look and found almost nothing different about the demon I had met ten years ago. Immaculate suit all in black, dark brown hair neatly trimmed although the beard was scruffier than I remembered, and the same arrogant light in those eyes that suggested he knew every move you would make ten moves ahead of time. "King of Hell," I went on. "Impressive."

"I always aim to astound," he replied, gazing around my living room. "And you. You've done well for yourself."

"I've learned a few tricks over the years," I explained, snapping my fingers. The fireplace roared to a blaze and the dimmed lights brightened, illuminating the room and half the house. I had good taste, if I said so myself, and the entire place looked posh and elegant without being pretentious or flashy.

I should know. I enchanted it that way.

Crowley looked only vaguely curious and mostly underwhelmed. "Oh, love," he said, sounding disappointed, "if you've spent the last ten years on party tricks and pretty decorations, you've wasted your bloody time."

"Actually, I've been taking a few lessons with your mother."

His face fell in less time than it took to say it.

I had been young, dumb, and desperate when I first went to the crossroads looking to make a deal. The demon who appeared had been haughty and supercilious but surprisingly charming as I stated my terms and he named his price: power beyond anything I had dreamed, a gift that was mine to do whatever I wanted with, and ten years to do it in. For the price of my soul, he made me a witch.

A broken home, a bad relationship, pick whatever sad history suits the moment. I needed what he offered, and with my new gift I freed myself. For the first time in my life, my destiny was mine, and the first five years were a wild celebration of my own liberation. As soon as I realized, however, that my time was half over, I changed lanes and sought out Rowena MacLeod, one of the most powerful witches in history, if not _the_ most powerful. Under her tutelage, my own power grew and more than that, she taught me the magic of my own intelligence. My craft was only as good as my cunning, and with her guidance, both had thrived.

Such a possibility seemed to occur to Crowley, judging by the way his mood shifted. He slid his hands into his coat pockets and his shoulders dropped as he tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling. "Yes, indeed," he remarked dryly, "and no doubt, Mummy dearest taught you everything she knows, did she?"

"Not everything," I said. "We both know better. She's too tricky for that."

He rolled his eyes. "What do you say we cut the clap trap, love, and get to what I'm here for. You know what you owe me. Ten years with those flashy powers of yours, then your soul is mine. Time's up, dearie. I came to collect."

"Personally?" I asked. "You mean you don't have a host of lackeys you could have sent instead?"

"Of course I do, darling. I'm the king. None other before me. But I prefer to collect on my old deals myself, you see. Wrap things up the way I started them. No lackeys involved and trust me, it's better that way."

"Is that you telling me that anyone else, I'd already be hell hound chow?"

"Oh yes," he replied without missing a beat. "Flesh torn to shreds, favorite dress ruined. Not the way you'd like to go, surely."

"Since when did what I'd like become a consideration?" I asked. "And what makes you think this is my favorite dress?"

"No idea," he shot back. "Maybe because it's your last night on Earth, you've spent the last few days living it up on an international level, you're boozing it in your living room right now. Going out with a bang, and you wouldn't be the first."

"Have you been keeping tabs on me?"

"Professional curiosity. I heard you were moving up in the world of witchery and thought I'd better keep an eye on you."

"Why?"

"That's strictly need-to-know information, sweetheart. Now," he clapped his hands once, rubbing his palms together, "shall we get this show on the road, or do I need to call the dogs?"

I sighed. "I'm looking at eternal damnation, Crowley, surely you can spare me a few minutes."

He paused thoughtfully for a moment or two, then gave a small shrug as he sat down on the couch. "I suppose I could. But not without a nosh, thank you."

I moved to pour him a glass of wine but I had barely lifted a hand before it appeared in his. He swirled the glass around in a leisurely manner before lifting it to his nose and breathing deeply; "Interesting," he noted, then took a sip. "And not quite what I expected."

I listened but barely paid attention, considering my next words _very_ carefully. So far, Rowena's information had been good, "He likes ye, or at the verra least, ye dinna annoy him," and that meant maybe-- _maybe_ \--I had a chance. "So," I began, "Your Highness..." I played with the words as they left my lips, low and sultry then soft and breathy, and I saw him settle deeper into the couch, like a contented cat. "How is the new promotion working out?"

"Small talk?" he asked. "Really?"

I shrugged. And I waited.

"I'm at the top of the food chain, darling. Every black-eyed bugger in creation bows to my whim. Thousands upon thousands of yes-men and sycophants line up to lick the dirt from my shoes. If I so much as sneeze, it's a competition to be the first to say...well, not "bless you," but you do get the idea."

"I do," I agreed, returning to my own glass of wine and taking a swallow for effect before adding, "and that's not quite what I've heard lately."

He looked less smug and I pressed on, "The word going around is that there's an attempt at a new coup almost as soon as you put down the last one. Abbadon might have gone to ground, but there's still those who would have followed her, and there's a certain percentage of Hell who are a little...concerned, at your constant alliances with the Winchesters. However temporary or self-serving. You might be king, but your throne is far from secure."

There was almost no trace of satisfaction in his manner or expression anymore. He stared silently for a moment, then leaned forward to set the wine on the coffee table, propping his elbows on his knees and lacing his fingers together as he regarded me. "And where, exactly, are you getting your information these days, pet?" he asked.

"Why do you want to know?" I countered, my heart starting to race. "Too accurate?"

"Hardly. I just want to know who you're letting fill your pretty head with such nasty stories."

"If they're just stories, then why are you so riled?"

"Riled?" Whether it was the magic in me or what he was putting out, the air around him seemed to shimmer with dry heat and I felt as though I was standing too close to a bonfire. "Don't be ridiculous. If I was, as you say, _riled_ , in any shape, form, or fashion, I promise you, darling. You'd already be screaming."

I swallowed hard. He _was_ struggling to hold the throne, and it was a sore point with him. "Fergus needs the upper hand," Rowena had told me time and time again.  "He hates the feeling that he's not in control, and that's how ye snare him. Push him hard enough, he'll bend, and ye can predict and plan for that. Too hard, he'll break, and all yer wits and magic won't help ye then."

"You need allies," I told him, "besides the Winchesters. Somebody whose loyalty is assured, down in the thick of things, eyes and ears to the ground for any mutiny in the ranks."

"Oh, you think so?" he retorted. "A spy. How original. I wonder why I never thought of that before."

"You have. Several times. Half of your spies have already double-crossed you, and you're wondering which of the other half will be next."

His eyes narrowed and his voice was low and dangerous. "You're too smart for your own good, love," he told me, raising his hand and poised to snap his fingers.

"Wait," I said, lifting my own hand in a placating gesture. "I have a proposition for you."

"Did I speak too soon?" he ventured, more sarcastic than ever. "Are you trying to make another deal, when you're not even square on the last one?"

"Oh, forgive me, Your Majesty, but an eternity of torture and hellfire sounds slightly less than ideal."

"Well, bollocks, darling. That sounds like what's known as a 'you problem.'"

"The way I see it, we both have a problem, and we might be able to help each other out."

"And let me guess, we come to your deal."

"We do."

I had no idea who I was praying to, but by whatever force was listening, I hoped Rowena knew her son as well as she thought. "I'll be your inside man. If there's anything worth knowing going on Downstairs, I'll find out and pass it on to you. You do whatever you like with the information."

His eyes flicked up and down my person, taking my measure. "And why should I trust you, exactly? You're overdue for the rack. You'll say anything right now."

"You've listened to me so far without siccing your hounds on me," I pointed out. "You think I'd dare betray you, knowing I'm damned and waiting to be thrown into the Pit?"

"So, you spy for me and I spare you from damnation, is that it?"

"Close. I want to be queen."

The room was silent but for the crackle of the fire. I didn't say another word, and I hardly dared to breathe, waiting for him to respond.

He leaned back again, crossing one ankle over the other knee and draping an arm across the back of the couch. I wasn't aware of the moment the glass of wine vanished from the table, it was simply in his hand as if it had been there all along. "Queen," he finally said. "As in, Queen of Hell. As in, _my_ queen." He swirled the glass, watching the liquid inside twirl and spin and not sparing even the most disparaging look at me. "That ginger bitch certainly got her hooks in you..."

"I wanted to make the bargain," I replied, "she only told me how to negotiate."

"The right hand of Hell in exchange for gossip? Is that how you negotiate?"

"The art of the deal, right?"

"Oh, darling..." He sighed and rolled his eyes. "If you're taking advice from _that_ buffoon, you're already screwed."

"I don't want a parade," I added, "I don't want a fuss. Not even a coronation, if that's even a thing. I just want the title, security, and power to do my job. An all-access pass, if you will."

"And how effective a spy do you think you'll be, once word gets out?"

"It can't. It stays between us. As far as the rest of Hell knows, I'm just another damned soul tormented at your pleasure."

"And your explanation for being seen so often in my company, as you undoubtedly will be?"

"Tell them I'm your whore for all I care."

He paused again, finally looking up at me, and the instant our eyes locked his flashed red and I felt a rush of terror. It was subtle, so subtle I might not have noticed but for the magic in me, but... _something_ passed through me, some outside force darker and more powerful than anything I had ever encountered in my decade of witchcraft, shifting through my blood and bones to invade my mind and pierce through to my soul. I couldn't hide anything, every thought, feeling, secret, sin, fear, and desire rising from the shadows of my being in one lightning-strike moment; he smiled, and I knew whatever control I had of the moment was gone for good.

"Ah," he purred, "so _that's_ what you really want, isn't it? That's what you really, _really_ , want. Forget whatever new deal you want to cut, forget titles and power and all that drivel. It's all just a means to an end, and it ends with you in my bed. Ah ah ah," he said, overriding the contradiction forming on my lips, "don't lie to me, pet. You're not the only one who listens to the rumors, and rumor has it you've got a bit of a dark side. Danger, domination, everything that makes Christian Grey look wholesome...it excites you."

I felt heat again, but it wasn't all coming from him. I had never even said so much aloud, and he let it roll off his tongue with almost enough mockery to hide the relish. I had heard the rumors about my tastes with my own ears and Rowena might have guessed how true they were, but no one ever knew for certain until now. My deal ten years ago was just the start, the thought of everything I was risking stoking a fever in my blood I had spent the last decade trying to abate. I had pushed the limits of my inhibitions along with my magic, and even now this game we were playing, discussing terms with my soul on the line, was enough to set my heart pounding and my need rising. If he always needed the upper hand, I always needed to up the ante. More thrills, more risk, and what could possibly be more dangerous than bedding the King of Hell?

He stood and slowly made his way toward me, the heat of his power and my want getting stronger the closer he got. "Oh, darling," he said, soft and silky as he leaned close to whisper in my ear, "if you wanted me to fuck you, all you had to do was ask."


	2. Devil's Dance

_One_ _day_ _you_ _will_ _see_

_And_ _dare_ _to_ _come_ _down_ _to_ _me_

_Yeah,_ _come_ _on,_ _come_ _on,_ _now_

_Take a_ _chance_

_That's_ _right,_ _let's_ _dance_

_Metallica, "_ _Devil's_ _Dance"_

_***_

My pulse was too quick to count the beats and my head was spinning out of control. Crowley smiled at me one more time and grabbed hold of my wrist, and then we were...gone. There was a brief moment when I ceased to exist as a being unto myself, my corporeal form dissolving into the fabric of space, then I was whole again. Though when I looked around me, I wasn't in my living room anymore. I wasn't sure what I expected Hell to look like, but it certainly wasn't this. The penthouse suites in the high rise hotels I'd spent my last week in weren't as swanky as this.

We were in a foyer with marble-tiled flooring that gave way to gleaming hardwood and plush carpets. It looked to be part reception hall, part sitting room, lounge seating at one end and an elegant piano at the other. The walls were hung with art; on closer look, the paintings and photos were either familiar pieces with slight corruptions or, in some cases, the originals themselves, and I could only guess how those ended up in Crowley's collection. The far wall was nothing but glass, a wide, seamless window with curtains pulled back to reveal a distorted view outside, though on our arrival Crowley snapped his fingers and the curtains drew shut.

"It's a...nice place you have here," I commented lightly, trying not to sound scared or eager.

"It pays to be in charge, love," he told me. He slid off his overcoat and flung it onto a coat stand I was quite sure hadn't been there the entire time, hands sliding into his pockets as he strolled farther into the room. The arrogance that usually surrounded him had shifted. He emanated power, grace, control, and the danger he accused me of craving. Seeing the change that came over him as soon as we stepped into his domain, I had to admit how right he was, though it didn't stop the fear stirring inside me. Here, he  _was_  in control, and he could do whatever he wanted to me.

"Now, then," he said, turning to look at me, still standing agape in the foyer, "why don't we see how well you negotiate?"

"Uh, negotiate?" I repeated, confused. "Meaning?"

"Oh, come on, pet, I thought you were clever. You want another deal. I want payment. Convince me not to throw you in with the rest of the damned and we'll see what it gets you. Or, stand there gawking like a complete idiot and I'll have you in line to be flayed and stuck listening to the best of the Backstreet Boys for the rest of eternity before you can say 'Bye Bye Bye.'"

"That's N'Sync," I corrected him. "If you're going to threaten me, at least know what you're on about before you make yourself sound like the idiot."

He regarded me for a moment and I was sure my cheekiness had done me in before he gave me a small nod of approval. "Depending on how this goes," he said, "you'll either be rewarded for that smart mouth, or punished  _most_  severely."

"Just... _how_  severe, exactly?"

He didn't answer, only glancing at me and smiling, and my heart pounded hard enough to hurt. "You look so nervous, sweetheart. You knew ten years ago, this day was coming."

"It-" My throat was dry. I swallowed hard and took a deep breath before trying again, "It seems like more time at the outset, and even then, I...didn't exactly picture anything like this."

"Reneging on our deal by trying to con your way onto the throne?" he asked. "Or in my rooms waiting for me to decide what to do to you first?"

"Crowley, I-"

"First of all, love, you need to learn who the top dog is around here," he cut in swiftly, his voice slicing through me. There was a surge of energy through the room, of  _power_ , and something forced me to my knees on the tiled floor. I gasped in surprise but the noise was cut short and suddenly I couldn't breathe. I felt the aura of his powers but had no idea if he was controlling my lungs or the air itself, and it didn't really matter because  _I_ _couldn't_ _breathe_. I was on hands and knees, mouth hanging open, watching him stand there unmoved as I suffocated in front of him, completely and utterly powerless.

My head felt fuzzy and my vision was starting to go black when he finally released me and I nearly collapsed, pulling oxygen back into my body in heaving gasps. My knees shook and my legs wobbled as I got back to my feet, only to be shoved to the floor again. I looked up at Crowley and struggled against the power holding me, gathering my magic to push at his, but he didn't even flinch. He raised a hand and clenched into a fist, and I felt a tight grip at my throat, keeping me in place.

"You're stubborn, I'll give you that," he said, "but you need to understand, you wear  _my_  collar.  _I_  hold the leash. I could turn you over to whatever torture I bloody well like, or I could just-" He snapped his fingers and the piano at the end of the room exploded into flames. I cringed at the sight and there was that gleam of satisfaction in his eyes again as he started towards me. "You want to be queen," he went on, his footsteps echoing softly under the smoky cadence of his voice, "and you think you can get what you want with some entry-level Ponzi scheme cooked up between you and that whore, and I'll just take the table scraps you use as bait and that'll be the end of it. Like a dream come true." He stopped in front of me so I knelt at his feet and the grip on my throat relaxed; he reached out to comb his fingers through my hair and I tensed in reaction, not expecting the gentle touch.

"You see, darling," he said, his voice as tender as his fingers, "I know what you really dream of, what you really desire..." Those tender fingers twisted harshly into my hair and his eyes flashed red again, and fear blazed through me like wildfire. The red faded once more and he finished, "And it's not a throne."

Once again, I found myself breathless and he was to blame, though this time he'd done it with his hands and his words, holding either promise or threat and I couldn't tell which. Adrenaline left me shaking, wondering just what in the hell was about to happen and reminded just how completely in control he was.

"Your proposal," he said, releasing me and abruptly stepping away from me, sounding businesslike. "You're not the first to come to me with one like it. As shocking as it sounds, there's never a shortage of demons willing to turn on each other for personal gain. Myself included. As turner and turned-on." He paused, hearing his own words, then went on, "Or rather, turnee. Who knows. Doesn't matter. The point is, what makes you so different from them, that I should consider this?"

"I'm-" I coughed and took several deep breaths, still winded as I got to my feet. "I'm damned," I tried again. "All I have ahead of me is your infinite queue, at best, unless you decide to get more creative. Your demons don't have that hanging over them."

"No," he agreed. "I usually just kill them."

"Better a quick death than eternal torment," I countered quickly.

"You're right. I'll be sure to torture traitors from now on with no more merciful executions."

"Well, now..." My mind raced, trying to answer with sharper logic he couldn't pick apart so easily.

He smirked at me. "Best think quickly, love. I'm a busy guy, and this meeting is already into overtime."

"Then how about...a spell? One to bind me to you, or make me incapable of lying to you or betraying you?"

"You'd make yourself my puppet? I doubt that."

"You wouldn't, to avoid the Pit?"

"Darling, if I avoided the Pit, I wouldn't be where I am today, now, would I?"

"You need somebody. Counterintelligence, something, you have too many gunning for your spot not to have an ace up your sleeve-"

"And that's you, is it? What do  _you_  have up  _your_  sleeve that I need?"

"I trained with Rowena-"

"Remind me of that one more time, and I'll have you eating your own entrails for the next ten years."

"I'm strong," I persisted. "I know my own power, I know how to keep a low profile, I know how to make people underestimate me."

"And all of that simply convinces me that I need to bury you in the deepest, loneliest, most wardiest hole I can find and set a dog or several dozen to stand guard," he argued. "Is this how you negotiate? This is no way to do business! And you're surprised you wound up stepping in this pile of horse sh-"

"I'm a weapon, or you wouldn't be worried. And you need me, or we wouldn't be having this conversation. What do you want from me to prove myself?"

"You still haven't told me why I should trust you."

"I have too much to lose to-"

"Not that line again," he broke in sharply, and I felt the heat of his power rising around me. "I didn't buy it the first time and it doesn't get more appealing with age. You fancy yourself so bloody clever, you should know the answer. How. Do I know. To trust you?"

I stood quietly looking into his human eyes, seeing them turn red in my memory. I  _did_  know the answer, reluctant as I was to admit it. "Because you know what I really want," I replied slowly, "and it's not a throne."

He waited for me to elaborate and when I didn't, he slowly started towards me again, one careful step after another while the heat around him grew more intense. "And what  _do_  you want?" he prompted. "I'll hear you say it, sweetheart, or it's Downstairs you go."

Every breath shivered its way into my lungs while my heart raced and my skin prickled with goosebumps. Every moment of our encounter had had me thrown completely off course with no idea what to expect, sparking a bone-deep fear that twisted into an unsettling excitement. And he knew. He knew exactly how I was reacting and why, and all I could do was answer truthfully.

"I want...I want the danger. Everything you said earlier. That's all I want."

We stood nearly toe to toe by now, so close the heat of his magic was like touching fire. I had never felt magic like his before; Rowena's affinity was for air and her power always felt like wind moving across my skin, I had met several witches aligned with earth who felt like everything from trickles of sand to solid stone, and my own water affinity moved through me as a river steady in its course to the sea. And I had felt power rooted in fire before, but all of it was a matchstick in a hurricane compared to what I could feel from Crowley. If I tested my gift against him, I had no doubt I would evaporate into oblivion with a snap of his fingers.

The thought made my knees weak and my body shake, and whether it was fear or arousal or both made no difference.

"I've heard the rumors about you," he told me, his voice barely raised above a whisper as he lifted his hand to glide his fingers across my throat and chest left bare above the neckline of my dress. His touch felt like hot wax rolling over my skin and I gasped aloud, leaning toward him before I was even conscious of it. "Juicy stuff, darling. I can't help but wonder how much of it is true..."

"Whatever-whatever you want," I answered breathlessly as his fingers moved up along my jaw and through my hair and I melted wherever he touched me. "Anything you want..."

"I could use you," he said, staring down into my eyes and still running his fingers through my hair while I felt a hot, searing grip around my throat again, tight enough to suggest the threat. "I could do  _terrible_ things to you and you'd love every second, wouldn't you? I could hurt you, break you, and you'd beg for more of it, for me to please you and break you over and over again..." He rested his free hand on my hip and moved down my leg, reaching under the hem of my dress to run his fingers up the inside of my thigh, and my legs almost gave way beneath me as I felt fire in my skin and electricity in my muscles.

"You like that, don't you," he said, leaning down to murmur next to my ear, his hands on my body and his magic at my throat, and the push-pull of pleasure and pain sent tingles racing through me. "I've seen into your mind. I know everything you want me to do to you, every single dark, twisted, sinful, glorious thing..." His hand under my dress paused at the edge of my panties and I clutched at the lapel of his jacket, nearly frantic with suspense. "Tell me what you want, pet," he murmured, "or you'll get nothing."

The heat of his fire was so intense that I drew the water of the air around me as a shield on instinct, only to feel our combined energy ripple like steam and he was still burning me. The electricity in his fingers had my entire body humming with live current and only too late did I realize how it would be amplified by my power. Already, the tingling had grown into a sharp tension that was more and more acute. He had me on a razor's edge between ecstasy and agony, precisely balanced, and it was exactly where I wanted to be.

"Tell me," he repeated, and there was a surge of power like two wires completing a circuit and I felt as if I had been struck by a bolt of lightning, focused with greatest intensity where his hand met my skin. And it hurt, but it was exhilarating, and I cried out loud, "You! I want you!"

"What do you want from me, darling," he asked, and there was a warning prickle before the second surge and my body bowed into him. "Fuck!" I burst out, my voice rising until I was nearly screaming. "Crowley, please, fuck me! Anything you want, just fuck me!"

He smiled at me and slipped his fingers into my underwear, two digits thrusting in and out of my slick cunt while the heel of his hand moved against my clit, and the lightning was reduced to that initial tingle that had me tense and contracted and already so overwhelmed with sensation that I was hurtling breathlessly toward climax with no hope of slowing down, the balance ever more precarious, almost over the edge-

There was another jolt of lightning that snatched me back, white hot and razor sharp and arcing through me with a flash, ripping a scream from me as the release I sought was exchanged with pain.

It passed and I would have fallen to the floor had his magic not held me up. The same power that kept me on my knees earlier now steadied me on my feet, and Crowley cupped my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing at the tears pooling in my eyes. "I bet that hurt, didn't it, love?" he asked.

I nodded, trembling.

"But you enjoyed it, didn't you?"

I paused, checking in with myself, caught between the high of ecstasy, the bite of pain, the frustration of denial, and the way they all twisted together with one building off the other.

"Answer me."

"Yes. I did."

The heat around him mellowed into a warmth that was almost comforting. One of his thumbs traced along my bottom lip, his face barely an inch from mine, and I glanced between his mouth and his eyes, my heart skipping several beats. He leaned closer, his lips almost touching mine, pausing there for a moment before he whispered, "Good girl."

A tiny moan broke from me and I could feel my body reacting, slick pooling between my legs, and whether it was the words he spoke or the dark smoke he said them with that had me so wet and desperate was beyond me. And before I could figure it out I felt a moment of nonexistence, then I noticed the room.

My first thought was of an opium den, with dim light, a hazy atmosphere, and heavy drapes over the walls while the smell of burning hung in the air. Then I realized the burning was incense, something heady and spicy, and through the dim light I could make out an armoire, a chaise, a liquor cabinet, and a four-poster bed. We were in Crowley's bedroom.

He stepped away from me, unbuttoning his suit jacket and throwing it off, discarding it carelessly on the chaise before waving his hand. A fire crackled to life on the hearth along one wall, along with several sconces, and a handful of lamps paned with red glass suspended from the ceiling. I looked around me, taking in the ornate woodwork and the silk hangings, then he snapped his fingers and I felt the zipper down my back begin a slow descent. I turned my eyes back to him and he was loosening his tie with one hand, gaze riveted on me in appraisal. Without my assistance, the straps of my dress slipped off my shoulders and it kept going, working its way down my body to land in a puddle of fabric at my feet. I moved reflexively to cover myself, but something restrained me, keeping my arms at my sides.

"Have you changed your mind?" he asked, and underneath the commanding superiority I heard a note of genuine solicitude in his voice.

I drew a deep breath, calming my shaky nerves, and shook my head. "I haven't."

"Good." He unbuttoned his cuffs and turned back his sleeves a few times, glancing over me in my bra and underwear. "Take those off."

I reached behind my back and unhooked my bra, letting it slide down my arms and hit the floor before pushing my underwear down my hips to fall beside the rest of my clothes. I nudged them aside with my foot before looking back up at Crowley, watching me in silence, his eyes moving up and down my body. Nervous as I was, I hoped...I hoped I was appealing enough for him...

"No glamours, love?" he asked. "That's usually one of the first things witches go for."

I shrugged. "I'd rather embrace who I am."

He smiled. "Music to my ears, darling." He stepped closer and raised his hand, running the back of his fingers down the side of my face, fingertips brushing along my throat, tracing my collarbones, moving down to my breasts, his touch so light it stirred goosebumps along my skin. I never took my eyes from his face, watching him follow his hands across my body for a few moments before flicking his gaze back up to mine. "Rope or handcuffs?"

"What?" I asked.

"Personally, I prefer the aesthetic of chains," he went on, "but I've neglected to oil them lately, and frankly, rust ruins the whole look." He raised his eyebrows at me, waiting for my response. "Do you have a preference?"

"Um...yeah," I replied slowly. "I like rope..."

"Excellent choice." Much as the wine glass had appeared earlier in my living room, there was a coil of rope in his hands and I couldn't have said when it got there. "Give me your hands."

I hesitated a moment, then held out my hands obediently, my heart racing all over again. He looped the rope around my wrists, cinching it snugly, then released the remaining coil and it twisted into the air, leading my hands with it and guiding my arms above and behind my head. It kept going, knotting and splitting into multiple cords, wrapping between my legs with a strand secured directly along my cunt, a strategically placed knot just below my clit.

"Maybe," I said, "maybe we should discuss a safe word..."

Crowley had been watching the rope, directing its course with his eyes, but he responded readily. "Oh, right, suppose we should. How about...'no deal.'" His eyes met mine, giving me a long, serious look. "Do you understand?"

I felt cold all over. I thought I knew what he was getting at; if I called things to a halt he would stop, but I would forfeit my chance at avoiding damnation. Take what he gave me, or face Hell; was that the end game? He knew the risk was part of the rush for me, and he could have been playing into that...but he had also avoided any kind of agreement in that regard. Was this part of the play, or was he serious?

The rope kept moving, twining and crossing my torso to fasten around my breasts before snaking back over my shoulders to finish with another pass around my wrists, and only once I could no longer pay attention to the rope did I notice the energy humming around my body again, keeping me balanced and standing. I moved a little against my bonds and felt the burn of them everywhere, and the knot brushing against my clit made me gasp aloud.

Crowley circled me like prey, examining his handiwork and nodding slowly. "I think we're both going to enjoy this," he said, his voice soft and dark, that tone of satisfaction already working away at me. He stepped away from me, crossing the room to one of the walls covered by drapes, and at a gesture they moved aside to reveal a collection of whips, riding crops, floggers, canes, paddles, and what I could have sworn was a tennis racket. He surveyed the options for a moment, taking his time and giving me plenty of opportunity to see what was going on, before taking down a bull whip, a flogger, and a long feather.

My mouth was dry and I didn't know if I was more nervous or excited. Crowley turned back to me with a calculating look, flexing the braided leather in his hands and walking around me, stopping behind me where I couldn't see him. I felt him lean close and he murmured, "Stay on your feet."

I had no time to react before I heard the whip crack, the snap echoing through the room, and I flinched. The rope was just coarse enough that it burned my skin wherever my movement strained against it, but nowhere as intensely as at my cunt, harsh enough to sting but the friction against my clit making me moan and curse. I felt the soft brush of the feather across my back, along my arms, down my sides, over my ass and legs; the tickly sensation had me shivering and squirming and the rope added even more until I had to focus to stay standing.

He kept teasing me, cracking the whip and stroking me with the feather, the auditory and tactile mismatch throwing me off center. He had yet to use the flogger and I didn't know if, or when, he planned to, but the suspense of waiting for the first blow heightened my awareness of the whip in my ears, the feather on my body, the rope against my skin, and it slowly overwhelmed me, pleasure rising higher and higher...

The whip cracked close enough to my ear that my hair stirred and I felt, not the feather, but the leather thongs of the flogger on my ass. Crowley knew what he was doing. Both of them barely touched me, and I was losing my mind, heart racing and head spinning and body reacting to each and every sensation, fear, excitement, pain, arousal. I was so terrified, so turned on, and it was exhilarating.

"You like that, don't you, pet?" he asked, and suddenly he was in front of me, watching me with that knowing smirk. "I'll have to see how much." He reached between my legs and slid his fingers inside me, my body welcoming his intrusion. I moaned from deep in my chest at the feeling of his fingers playing with my clit, reaching farther to my g-spot, and I was so wet he moved with no resistance. He curled a finger against my g-spot while his thumb circled my clit, and my legs finally gave out so I crumpled at his feet.

"I told you to stay on your feet," he said, his voice sharp and stern. He looked down at me, his eyes burning holes through my skin while he licked his fingers clean of me, and a shiver rolled down my spine at the sight. "You disobeyed me, pet. What am I supposed to do with you now?"

I opened my mouth, but only a needy whine escaped before he cut me off. "Speak when I tell you to. Understood?"

"Ye-" A hot grip closed around my throat, the reply stifled in an instant.

"Did I give you permission to speak?" he demanded, tightening the pressure at my throat.

I paused, then shook my head silently.

He clicked his tongue scoldingly, a soft  _tsk tsk_  against his teeth as he slowly shook his head. "Naughty naughty," he taunted. "Good girls do as they're told. Bad girls, well...they take their punishment one way or another." A snap of his fingers and the ropes fell away, and the flogger was back in his hand. "All fours," he ordered. "Now."

My entire body trembled as I obeyed, getting on my hands and knees and hardly daring to breathe. He was done teasing, and I didn't know how far he was planning to go to break me.

On all fours like a dog, as he commanded, hands and knees spread to try and brace myself, and my mind shrieked with fright but the slick heat, the ache between my legs, defied my fear. I could do it myself, make myself come with a few strokes of my fingers, but what would he do to me then?

"You wouldn't like it," he said, responding as if he heard my thoughts. "And yes, I did," he went on. " _Can_. I can hear every thought in your head, pet. Every single word. So don't even think of disobeying me." He adjusted his grip on the flogger and walked around me where I presented the most intimate parts of my body in one view. "Scream if you want, though you probably will anyway. I'll make sure of that." And he struck me with the flogger.

I recoiled at the impact, the sting of the leather against my ass biting deep, clenching my teeth to keep from crying out. He hit me again, the second blow landing like fire, and a wail rose in my throat, my fingers digging into the pile of the rug on the floor beneath me. I broke on the third, nearly collapsing and letting out a loud, long scream of pain. He didn't stop, didn't even slow down, one stroke after another. His pace was measured, giving me just enough time to adjust to one lash before dealing a fresh one. Tears poured from my eyes and my throat felt raw from screaming, and it was all I could do to stay put and resist curling in a ball on the floor.

And I  _loved_  it. His dominance, the fear I felt waiting for each blow, the pain itself... Blood pounded hard in my veins, settling into a throbbing ache in my core and my cunt was practically dripping, needy, ready, waiting...

He paused, and I heard him speak. "You really  _are_ enjoying this, aren't you?" he asked, sounding mildly surprised.

I nodded, still weeping.

"Speak."

"Yes," I answered tremorously.

"Open your legs."

I carefully planted my knees farther apart, further exposing myself to him, desperate for him to be inside me. His fingers, his cock,  _something_. I felt his hand against one of my stinging cheeks, his palm simply resting on my heated flesh while his other hand reached between my legs, a fingertip brushing the length of my entrance and soaking in my juices.

"Well, bugger me," he remarked. "My little pet likes to take her punishment, don't you, sweetheart? Answer me, now."

"Yes," I replied, staring down at the floor and longing to lean back onto that finger, to beg him for release.

He patted my ass gently, that finger still passing back and forth while I squirmed and whined. "I don't know, love... Do you think you deserve to come?"

I opened my mouth to answer, then realized just in time to close my mouth and nod silently.

That mellow warmth surrounded me again and I heard his satisfied hum. "That's my good girl..."

I couldn't hold back a shiver, or the way the praise made me wetter than ever, and he noticed both. "Oh, you like that too, do you? You like to hear what a good, well-behaved little lamb you are? Tell me, darling..."

"I do," I answered. "I do like it..."

"I thought so." He lifted his hands away and I made a tiny noise of discontent; he replied, "Poor thing, I'm being so harsh on you, aren't I? After you've done so much to make me happy... And yes, pet, you've made me  _very_  happy," he added, answering my unspoken question. "You challenge me, and I like that. You also know when to do as you're told, and I like that even more. And you understand the beauty of pain, and I think I like that the best. So, yes, I certainly think you've earned something..."

He knelt beside me, running his hand up along my spine, sending electric currents through my muscles. His fingers tangled in my hair and I felt him lean close to my ear, murmuring softly, "Touch yourself, darling. Show me how good you can fuck yourself with your fingers."

I let out an obscene moan and reached for my clit, stroking feverishly before moving inside to tease my g-spot, alternating back and forth between the two. I closed my eyes briefly, crumbling under the pleasure building up inside me, and when I opened them again Crowley stood before me, staring down at me, watching me with a dark, hungry look in his eyes. "That's it," he purred at me, "that's my sweet girl... Feels good, doesn't it? All the better after taking your punishment so well."

My entire body shook, his words spoken in that low rasp nearly finishing me off. He crouched down in front of me, taking my chin in his hand and turning my face up to his. "Almost there, darling. Keep going, make me proud..."

A low cry built in my throat and I moved faster, I was so close,  _so_ _fucking_ _close_ , his encouragement pushing me farther and farther-

"Stop."

His hand tightened on my chin and I froze at his command, unable to move though I would have been unable to keep from it, if he hadn't held me in place. I cried out in frustration, ready to fly apart into pieces. "Please," I begged, " _please_..."

"Sorry, love," he said, getting to his feet. "I changed my mind." And he whistled.

My blood ran cold. There was a low, menacing growl from... _somewhere_ , followed by an angry snarl that almost made my heart stop instantaneously. Crowley's power forced me to my feet and he stood behind me, my back against his chest with his arm wrapped tight around my waist, holding me prisoner. "Have you met my Juliet?" he asked amiably. "Good bloodlines. Ate the rest of her litter mates as they were coming out of her mum. I've been training her since her eyes opened."

I hardly paid attention to what he was saying, hearing the hellhound growl and snap as it moved around the room, completely unable to see it as I cried again, tears of pure unalloyed terror.

Crowley brushed my hair away from my ear and leaned closer. "Shall I introduce you? She's perfectly safe, honest. She won't bite unless I tell her to, or unless she gets a scent. Fear is a strong one, she loves that one. But it's fresh blood that really tickles her bits." His left hand closed over my wrist, turning my palm skyward, and he changed the grip of his right hand to fasten around something, a knife appearing as he did so.

The hound growled again and I felt something brush past me, something enormous, but I was too petrified to notice anything beyond its size, or the stench of sulfur and rotting meat around it. Crowley ran the point of the knife across my palm, softly at first then with more pressure. "She's an alpha among the hounds, you know," he went on. "Biggest, strongest, most vicious... I've had to mop up what's left of the souls she brings down here more times than I can count..."

I felt his hand hold my wrist tighter, the knife still moving over my palm. "I've been working with her lately," he added, "trying to bring her to heel, keep her on task even when she's got the scent. Care to lend me a hand? No pun intended?"

My mind was screaming at me,  _no_ _deal,_ _no_ _deal_ , but the words died in my throat. This was it, wasn't it? Was he going to give me to the hound? With or without the safe words? Were the safe words themselves a trap? A fog of panic crept in at the edges of my mind and if I didn't do something,  _anything_...

I angled my hand against the point of the knife and pressed hard enough to break the skin and he took the hint, slicing across my palm. The cut was shallow but the pain was...well, it was beautiful, excruciating agony transformed into euphoric bliss as the endorphins flooded my system. I stared down at the blood welling in the cut, a deep crimson in a shade so rich that my skin looked drab in comparison.

Crowley released the knife, which promptly vanished, and ran his finger along the cut, smearing the blood over my palm. I raised my hand, letting it trickle down my arm and over the fingers he still had wrapped around my wrist, and the hellhound snarled again as the scent hit the air.

"Come here, girl," Crowley beckoned to it. "Come to Papa..." He extended my arm forward and I resisted for a moment, then slowly gave in, using all of my willpower to stay calm. "There's a good girl," he praised, then turned to me. "Go on, sweetheart, say hello." He paused, then added so softly I could have imagined it, "I dare you."

I closed my eyes, then reached out, feeling the beast's hot breath across my skin, the smell of it nearly choking me. My hand shook as I reached through the empty air, searching blindly...until I brushed fur. I nearly snatched my hand back but Crowley held me still. "No sudden moves," he advised. "She doesn't startle easily, but she doesn't like surprises..."

My eyes were shut tight but tears pushed their way out from under my lids. My head spun again and my knees weakened; I thought I was about to faint. My heart raced harder than ever and I forced myself to take a breath and steady my hand, holding it out to the hound. Those growls fell on my ears like distant thunder and the air around my hand stirred as it- _she_ -sniffed my fingers, nosing at my cut palm. I didn't dare move at first, working up my courage and half afraid she would tear my arm off, then slowly touched her again, the thick fur slightly greasy, and so  _hot_...

"Easy, now," Crowley soothed, and I couldn't tell if he was talking to me or the hound. "Easy does it..." He pressed closer to me until I could feel every inch of his body along mine, and I found myself leaning back into his embrace. "That's it, my lovely girls..."

I whimpered softly, then held my hand flat to the hound, the cut beginning to clot at the edges. She sniffed again, her growls quieted a bit, and I felt her warm, wet tongue lapping at the blood. I let out a long breath, sagging with relief. "Good girl..."

Behind me, Crowley suddenly tightened his hold on me, his body rigid and tense. I turned away from Juliet, glancing over my shoulder at him. "Is something wrong?"

His eyes were hungry, burning into me as he stared. "Bloody hell," he moaned softly, then leaned down and kissed my neck.

I gasped at the rush, no fire or electricity but a different heat coursing through me. My earlier frustration came flooding back and I ground my hips back into his, feeling his cock pressing into me, and I suddenly remembered the story of what he sold his soul for when he was still human.

From my perspective, the story hardly did the truth justice.

"Juliet, stay," he ordered sharply, turning me in his arms and pushing me back, and before I knew it I was tumbling backwards onto his bed ten feet across the room. He stood between my knees at the edge of the mattress, taking hold of my legs and pulling me closer to him. Every nerve in my body sang as he ran his hands over me, consuming each and every curve with each and every touch. I threaded my hands through his hair as he bent low and followed his hands with his mouth, lips moving across my breasts, belly, and hips. I leaned up into his mouth wherever he went, eyes shut and head thrown back, breathing heavier and hearing him match me, inhale for exhale.

His hand snaked up along my neck, cradling my face and turning me to look at him. Our eyes met and I felt that dark energy rush through me again, and this time I let him see what I wanted.  _Exactly_  what I wanted. His eyes were still human, but there was something hellish about the way they darkened as he nodded once and wrapped his hand around my throat.

I had time for one last breath before the pressure on my windpipe cut me off, but it was his fingers pressing down on my carotid that made my eyes roll back in my head as the physical deprivation enhanced every sensation my body had already experienced. My heart beat faster than ever, my senses heightened to unbearable acuity as my mind swam with the need to breathe. He released me for a moment, long enough to let blood and oxygen flow where it should before choking me again, and the reprieve sent me even higher.

He slid his fingers inside me, curling against my g-spot while his thumb circled my clit, just the way I wanted. I clutched his wrist, the hand that held my life in its grasp, ready to tap out if I felt myself losing consciousness, and without effort drew on my magic, letting the energy dance around me and inviting him to do the same. I felt the moment he did so, fire and water colliding like a volcano and a hurricane.

My lungs ached. My head spun. His clever fingers had me writhing with pleasure and everything I felt in my body was magnified by my magic, only to be trebled by his. I was so close now, I'd rather he kill me than deny me again, please, please,  _so_ _close_ _please_ _just_ _let_ _me_ _please_ _please-_

It started with a flutter, then raged through me so powerfully I struggled with my grip at his wrist. He let go and my first shuddering breath flooded me with sensation so intense I nearly passed out. My back arched, my body singing with euphoria, and I screamed his name over and over like no other word existed.

I think I blacked out for a moment, but when everything came back into focus he had his arm looped around me, supporting me against him while he traced my face with his fingers. "Good girl," he whispered as if to himself, "such a good girl, you did so well, you came so beautifully..."

I felt half insane with everything and didn't hesitate to wrap myself around him, my legs around his waist and my arms around his shoulders, fumbling at his collar to bare his skin and kissing his neck. "Thank you," I said heatedly, "oh my God, thank you..."

"God?" he repeated ironically. "Really?"

I let out a blissful sigh. "Thank you, your Majesty..."

He groaned and clutched tighter at me, and I rocked my hips into his, grinding against his cock. "Fuck me," I begged, "please, Crowley, I need it..."

"You're greedy," he replied, though he was already reaching to unbuckle his belt. "So-" he broke off to kiss the side of my neck, "fucking-" he moved to the other side and bit down before sucking hard, and I hoped it left marks, "greedy..."

I tugged at his tie, loosening it more before moving to the buttons of his shirt, my fingers clumsy in my urgency, and he laughed at me before snapping his fingers and his clothes were gone in an instant. He shoved his hands into my hair and I tried to lean in to kiss him, but he held me away, his eyes burning with more than I could decipher. "No one's ever tried to touch my Juliet," he said softly.

"Is that good or bad?" I asked.

"Oh, darling, you have  _no_  idea..." He lowered me back onto the bed and I savored the feeling of his weight pressing me into the mattress before rolling over and reversing our positions. I leaned down, running my hands across his chest as I straddled him, nearly laying flat on top of him and my mouth barely an inch from his. "Allow me," I said.

He hardly looked surprised, his eyes flicking down to below our waists. I straightened up and followed his gaze and...holy shit.

Holy  _shit_.

I looked back up at him, mouth fallen open in disbelief, and he gave me a smug smile, seeming pleased at my reaction. "Be my guest, love," he said.

Holy. Shit.

I took a deep breath and reached down, wrapping my hand around his shaft and stroking him a few times before lifting myself up on my knees and lining him up with my entrance. One more breath, and I let it out slowly as I sank onto his cock.

Thank God for foreplay. It was enough of an adjustment already, stretching around him and taking him deeper, deeper, as far as I possibly could until I felt him against my cervix. I sucked in a breath through gritted teeth, clenching my eyes shut and my body going rigid. I couldn't do this if I couldn't move, but the idea of moving with...that, was intimidating.

I felt his hands brush along my thighs and I looked down at him, his eyes roving over my body and his hands moving gently, soothingly, over my legs, hips, ass, ribs. "Let me help you," he said, and warmth suffused my skin. I felt myself softening, opening, relaxing, and I could take even more of him without pain or obstruction.

"What did you do?" I asked.

"Made it a little more convenient for you," he replied, his hands still moving in that gentle way.

"Why?"

He raised an eyebrow at me. "I sold my soul for that, you know. I'm getting my money's worth."

I couldn't stop my smile at his words, or my shiver at having him fully sheathed inside me. It was...unsettling, and I still hardly believed it was happening. I was fucking the King of Hell.

My body took over at the thought, lifting myself up and down and feeling him along every nerve ending, feeling his hands tighten on me as I started to ride him. I leaned forward and braced my hands on his shoulders, shifting my weight enough to go faster, harder, until I was gasping for breath and he was clutching at me, thrusting up into me.

"God-Crowley-" I burst out, feeling exhausted but pushing myself toward the climax I felt coming. "Oh my God, Crowley, you're  _amazing_..."

He moved us both so we were upright, eye to eye as I never lost my rhythm, slamming myself onto his cock as he yanked my hips forward with every thrust. I cried out at the new angle and he smiled deviously. "Sweetheart, you really have no idea..."

I moaned loudly, my head rolling back on my shoulders. "Holy  _shit_..."

"Go on, love," he encouraged me, his voice huskier that I had ever heard it. "Ride my cock until you come. Your king commands it."

"Oh fuck," I sighed, winding my arms around his neck and pulling myself closer, relishing the words, "my king..."

His eyes flickered red and his rhythm faltered as control slipped from his grasp. "Say that again," he ordered.

"My king," I obeyed, moaning a little more.

He answered my moan with one of his own, gripping my ass and pounding into me. I held on for dear life, ecstasy rising so fast I was dizzy with it, whimpering softly, "Are you happy with me, your Majesty?"

He almost growled in response, dragging his mouth across my neck in a trail of hot, wet kisses. "So happy, my good, good girl..."

"Yes," I gasped, then cried louder, "yes, I'm yours!"

I felt his magic again, scorching me wherever he touched as he lost control little by little. "Mine," he affirmed, "for eternity..."

"Yes..." My arms around his neck, my hands where he couldn't see them, I cast my magic around me, searching for the knife he used earlier. It was here somewhere and I had to find it fast.

"You're close," he told me, "getting so tight..."

He was right. If I wasn't concentrating so hard, I would have finished already. Twice. I needed that knife, now!

"Come on, darling," he urged, "come on and come for me..."

There! I found it! Focusing through the pleasure taking over me, I moved it from its place on the wall and into my hand, gripping it tight and flexing my cut palm, breaking the scab and causing it to bleed again.

"Come on," he said again. " _Now_ , my queen..."

My heart skipped several beats. He sounded wild, dangerous, half out of his mind, and his eyes were blazing red again. I felt another sweeping rush of fear but I begged on a needy moan, "Say it again, please..."

He twisted his hands into my hair and looked into my eyes, the glowing scarlet burning into me, his voice harsh and rough, "My queen..."

Finally.

I moved forward before he could catch on and pressed my mouth to his, snatching one of his hands and slicing open his palm before lacing our fingers, one cut clasped over the other and the fresh blood mingling together.

Crowley tore his lips away, looking furious. "Bloody hell, woman, what have you done?" he demanded, his voice rising to a shout as he tried to pull his hand away.

But he couldn't. I couldn't, either. Our hands were locked, blood dripping onto the sheets while around us, there was a tempest of energy, his magic and mine roiling and rippling until without warning, I felt fire in my veins, burning me alive with every beat of my pulse and centered where my blood mixed with Crowley's. Pain, pain unlike anything I ever believed myself capable of enduring, until the room spun and tilted and I passed out, falling into darkness.


	3. Heart-Shaped Box

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Back at it again, trying to lay some groundwork without cramming too much info into one chapter. Stick around! This thing is going places!

_She_ _eyes_ _me_ _like a Pisces_ _when I_ _am_ _weak_

_I've_ _been_ _locked_ _inside_ _your_ _heart-_ _shaped_ _box_ _for_ _weeks_

_I've_ _been_ _drawn_ _into_ _your_ _magnet_ _tar pit_ _trap_

_I_ _wish I_ _could_ _eat_ _your_ _cancer_ _when_ _you_ _turn_ _black_

_Nirvana, "_ _Heart-_ _Shaped_ _Box"_

I woke up slowly, first incapable of movement, then disinclined to it.  _Everything_  hurt. The rope burns. The lashes. My slashed hand. My throat. Pretty much every part of my body that had contact with Crowley's cock. Most of all, a burning, stinging, scorching force pushing its way through my veins with every beat of my pulse that gave me no relief whether I moved or held still.

Groaning, I put a hand to my aching head and sat up, looking around me as my eyes came into focus. Still on his bed, still naked, but...alone? Where had he gone?

I cast my eyes around the room and let out a scream, nearly falling off the bed as I scrambled away.

A massive, monstrous dog stood at the foot of the bed. Its exact size and build were nearly impossible to tell through the haze and smoke that surrounded it; I couldn't even say for sure what color it was, but black seemed a safe bet. Livid red eyes flamed like hot coals in its head and thick ropes of drool dripped from fangs longer than my fingers. And the low, menacing growls it made only grew louder as it caught my fear.

"Juliet, sit."

My eyes snapped over to the armchair by the fireplace. Crowley sat staring into the flames, chin in his hand, elbow on the armrest. He was dressed again, albeit in shirt and slacks, and if I felt terrible then he at least looked a little less composed than usual.

"Lovely thing, isn't she?" he asked, and it took a moment to realize he was addressing me. "Wondering why you can see her now?"

I fumbled for words, staring at the hound like a rabbit that's spotted a...well. A hound.

"Speak," he snapped.

"Yes," I answered, high-pitched and rushed.

"You should have been able to this whole time," he said without looking up. "Only the damned can see the hounds. Oftentimes, they die of pure bloody fear as soon as they clap eyes on one."

I couldn't keep from casting another nervous glance at Juliet. She had obeyed her master's command to sit, though she still watched me with those fiery eyes and let out the occasional snarl in my direction.

"You see, darling," he went on, "I was  _thinking_  of letting you off the hook. I've been keeping tabs on you long enough, you might say I'm a fan of yours, and no one,  _no_ _one,_  has ever had the stones to touch one of my hounds. I was impressed. I thought I'd see how far I could push you until you tapped out, since you seemed so hard up for it, and given that you had the pure nerve to bargain for it, I was planning on voiding your contract when it was all said and done. All out of the goodness of my heart. But then you try something like this?"

He lifted his right hand, the cut unbandaged. It had stopped bleeding, but it looked...wrong. The veins in his palm seemed faintly luminescent, so faint I wouldn't have noticed if the room wasn't so dim, and the cut itself shimmered. Or was ripple a better word? I couldn't decide how, but the effect was familiar and I couldn't put my finger on why.

"Care to enlighten me?" he asked, finally looking up and staring me down from where he sat.

"It's a..." I looked down at my own hand and while it didn't shimmer or ripple, something about it flickered oddly, and I noticed the stinging and scorching I felt in my body seemed most intense around the cut. "It's a binding spell..."

"Yes," he said tersely. "I  _know_  that, Glinda. What  _kind_  of binding, and to what end? You have twenty seconds to tell me before you and I spend eternity learning exactly what kind of pain you  _don't_  enjoy."

I gaped at him for a split second and he began counting. "Nineteen, eighteen..."

"It's a binding of wellbeing," I hurried to answer. "Blood of my blood, bone of my bone, that kind of thing-"

"Fourteen, thirteen..."

"-if something happens to one, it carries over to the other and they feel it too-"

"Ten, nine..."

"-sometimes it creates an empathic connection-"

"Six, five..."

"-like every traditional idea of, well, soulmates..."

"Two-" He halted and narrowed his eyes at me, as if in sheer irritation, then gave an annoyed huff and snapped his fingers.

My blood ran like battery acid in my veins. My bones turned to hot iron. The air I breathed became choking, poisonous fumes. I felt knives under my skin flaying me from the inside out. I let out one long unbroken scream as the pain grew and grew until I thought I'd shatter and it would escape and spread to claim another victim-

Then it stopped and I was a quaking, twitching tangle of limbs on the bed, the echoes of my scream reverberating off the walls...along with echoes of another. I moved my head just enough to glance toward the fire and waited for my eyes to focus.

Juliet had risen and moved to the armchair, nudging at something in front of it with her snout. It took effort to lift my head enough to see, but Crowley had fallen out of the chair and collapsed to the floor, and for the first time I had ever seen, he looked shaken. He took one deep breath after another and absently reached out and patted Juliet, moving her aside as he did so. The cut, I saw from across the room, seemed a little brighter than when I first noticed it.

My relief was tinged with awe. The spell worked. I didn't envy him whatever pain he felt through our new bond, but under the circumstances...I hoped it hurt like hell.

He brushed himself off as he seated himself again, taking another moment or two before turning to me. "Undo it," he ordered, his voice a little less steady than usual. "Now."

"I can't," I replied, trying to keep my own voice from shaking. "Blood magic is stronger and more complex, Rowena always said-"

"You didn't learn anything from her I don't already know!" he burst out. "There's always a reversal, a loophole, there's always  _something!"_

"She didn't tell me," I insisted. My hand burned like I held hot coal in my palm and the scorching kept pushing through me; I cradled my hand against my chest and tried to quell the nausea rising in my stomach. "If there's a way to undo it, I don't know it."

He sat staring at me for several minutes, watching me in my pitiful state. The pain from whatever he had done to me slowly faded, but the fatigue and sickness I felt could only be aftereffects of what it had taken to cast the spell. He finally heaved a sigh. "You humans are so bloody fragile..."

"What are you doing?" I asked as he slowly got to his feet and crossed the room.

"I don't fancy you spewing on my carpet," he replied, going to the liquor cabinet. He poured a whiskey and water and brought it to me, adding, "And since your illness is my inconvenience, the sooner you lose the urge to puke your guts out, the sooner I stop feeling queasy, so drink."

I looked at him and looked at the liquor, my hesitation plain on my face.

"Oh, for the love of-" He rolled his eyes. "Do you think I'd be stupid enough to poison you after seeing for myself how effective your little spell was? Do me more credit than that, I beg you."

I took the glass, holding it in both hands to keep it steady, and took a careful sip. The burn was mellow on the way down, pooling into warmth when it hit my belly, and while it sounded counterintuitive, it helped to settle my stomach. I took another swallow and frowned as the thought occurred to me. " _You're_ queasy? I didn't think you could get sick."

"Well, that makes two of us," he replied with a sarcastic attempt at a smile. "You're under the weather and we're bound. Do the math, Endora, it's  _your_  spell."

I winced as my pulse continued to send the scorching force through my body. "I didn't think it would hit me the way it did..."

"Wait, wait, you didn't  _think?"_  he repeated, giving me a look like I had spontaneously grown antlers. "A binding spell, in blood, while boning a demon, with that much magic hanging around to, what? Give it a little extra juice? And you didn't  _think?_  There's a bloody understatement if I've heard one."

"If I was going to bind the King of Hell, I needed all the extra juice I could get," I shot back. "Rowena warned me it would pack a punch, but  _that_  was the understatement."

"Consider, love, that the old crone has had three centuries of practice with spells that would vaporize you for even attempting them." He fell silent for a moment, then gestured to whiskey. "That's working. Keep going."

I glanced down at the drink. I  _did_  feel better, but it was odd, to say the least, that he could feel it too. "How...how long has it been?" I asked hesitantly. "Since you, you know... _saw_  her?"

I felt a flicker of heat from him, but no other sign of emotion, and he sounded bored when he replied. "Sometime around three hundred years ago when she left me in a workhouse after her coven expelled her. I heard of her now and then after I started working the crossroads, but never anything more than rumors until you."

I nodded absently, casting a nervous look at Juliet, who had taken up her post at the foot of the bed and still watched me closely. Only the damned could see the hounds, and she had been invisible the night before when he taunted me with her. He was telling the truth, then. He was going to release me from my deal-whether it would have been as easy as all that was irrelevant. If I could see Crowley's hellhound, my soul was condemned.

"You look so gloomy, darling," he said. "And you  _feel_ godawful. I can't remember the last time I was this depressed."

"How are you so well-adjusted to this?" I asked. I still felt drained after the spell ravaged my strength, but I...I could  _sense_  him, only a sense, and he felt...calm. Calculating. Angry, yes, but more inconvenienced than truly enraged, and I didn't doubt he was already planning to make this work in his favor.

"You're hardly the thorniest thorn I've had in my side," he replied. "And I've plucked every last one of those out just the same. You've won a point, that's all. I'll still take the match."

I swallowed hard, my throat dry and the whiskey doing nothing to help. "So, what next, then?"

"Until I find a way to reverse this spell, and believe me, darling, I  _will_  find a way, I have a vested interest in keeping you out of harm's way. Unfortunately, if you're to be even remotely useful to me, in harm's way is exactly where I need you." He caught sight of my confused expression and said, "You volunteered yourself as a spy, did you not?"

"I did..."

"And you'll hold up your end of the deal," he assured me, "or I'll hold up  _my_  end of your original contract. You're so much more delicate than the lowest of demons, you know. I can hurt you until you're choking on your own blood, to within an inch of snuffing you out over and over again, and as for me? I've done worse to myself and called it playtime. So don't test me, sweetheart. I still own you."

"Are you sure about that?"

He paused and I held my breath. The second part of my gambit, and if this didn't work, I didn't want to think of what he would do to me for trying. "I would say we're on a level playing field," I told him, "considering you made me your queen."

"I don't think so, darling," he replied. "Your contract still stands and I'm only sticking to this 007 charade until I lift your damn spell. You've done nothing but buy yourself a little more time."

"Not quite, your Highness. We agreed. In your own words, you said 'my queen,' and we sealed the deal. I never told you before, my king," I added, "but you know how to give one hell of a kiss."

Heat flared and that sense of anger inside me spiked higher, and he said, "And you're so sure that's how it works, are you?"

I felt like I was jumping out of an airplane with only a hope that I had a parachute, scared, resigned and resolved, and he could feel all of that. I held his gaze and replied, "That's how it worked last time."

The anger exploded into rage and I knew I was right. I saw the red in his eyes flicker and felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to maim, destroy, to cause as much hurt as possible, so absolute I nearly lost sense of myself. The heat rose to an inferno and I saw him raise his right hand, lifting my own hands out of reflex-

The atmosphere hummed and shook with energy and I felt a white-hot surge of power, through me but from him, and in answer I threw up a feeble wall of my own with no hope at all that it would even slow him down-

Our combined power collided midair, sending a shock wave through the room that threw me back on the bed and sent him staggering before he regained his balance. The rush took my breath away, a hot, dark tidal wave that was unlike anything I had ever felt before, at least until Crowley turned up in my living room. And as when I cast the binding spell, neither of us could break away. My slashed hand burned and the energy moving between us felt like an electric current, with that dark and hot wave along with another that was cooler and more familiar passing back and forth, and while my eyes were wide open, my mind was filled with thoughts and images that weren't mine...

A syringe filled with blood...a broken slate with strange markings carved into it...a blonde woman that flickered with orange light before falling dead...that blood-filled syringe again...an old-fashioned revolver...a red-headed woman that I thought I recognized...more blood...more blood...

_More_ _blood..._

There was a ripping, tearing pain in my arm and the connection broke; Juliet had lunged at me and sank her teeth into my forearm, severing whatever had linked her master to me. I cried out and at a word from Crowley the hound backed off, hackles raised and teeth bared, smeared with my blood. I looked down at the bite marks, red oozing from the torn flesh, and I wrapped my other hand tightly around it to try and stop the bleeding, but Juliet's jaw was larger than my hand and I couldn't cover the wound.

"Come here."

My head snapped up at the order. As far as I could tell, Crowley hadn't moved, but he stood motionless with his eyes riveted on my injured arm. There was something intense and desperate about him, and he said again, "Come here."

I hesitated. It was hardly the most threatening he had given me thus far, but something about that look seemed a little off. Through the pain in my arm and the whirlwind of magic, I could sense a need, a  _hunger_ , wrapped up in bitterness and loathing.

"I can help heal it, you twit," he snapped.

"It's fine," I protested, my fingers slipping in the blood. "I can handle it, I just need my familiar-"

_"_ _Now!"_

Further argument died on my lips. I scrambled off the bed and hurried to him, past the still-snarling Juliet to offer him my arm. He didn't take his eyes off the wound, encircling my wrist with one hand and passing the other over the bite. The blood disappeared and the skin knit back together, and I felt a prickle of warmth through my body. His brow furrowed for a moment, then he snapped his fingers and I was fully clothed again.

"We have business to discuss," he said, "but you'll have to excuse me for a moment."

"What business?" I asked.

He gave me a look shot full of irritation. "Bound to the King?" he replied. "Bargaining to be queen? Does that ring any bells? You might have gotten the drop on me but this spell of yours works two ways, and you're just as stuck with me as I am with you. No pun intended, but if you don't cooperate, I can make your new arrangement hell for you. Do I make myself clear, love?"

I nodded slowly.

He stared at me in silence for several long minutes, and while I couldn't sense him so clearly anymore, he was still there in my blood. If the consequences of the binding spell had taken him by surprise, it was nothing to how I felt. Everything that had happened since last night had me inside out, upside down, and backwards. I couldn't process all of it on my own. "I need my familiar," I repeated quietly. "Please. I can't...I can't make this work without her. Let me go back to my house for her, and I'll come back without a fuss. Or come with me if you insist, or send somebody to make sure I don't try anything-"

"And let anyone know that some ten year associate in the craft pulled a fast one on me?" he demanded. "I don't bloody think so, sweetheart."

"Crowley,  _please_..."

He kept staring and I sensed him again, only the faintest trace of annoyance, and still that hunger, growing stronger and stronger. I felt heat, around me and through me, strongest at the cut on my hand, and he finally turned away with a muttered curse. "You have one hour," he said. "Don't try anything stupid." He raised his hand and I caught a brief glimpse of his cut palm, and I realized that odd ripple reminded me of sunlight on moving water.

"One hour," he repeated, then he snapped his fingers and I felt myself disappear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave me some love!


	4. Natural

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof. (That seems to be my favorite word so far this year.) I've heard the first 3 to 5 chapters are the hardest to write, and damn son, I don't disagree. Fun fact, this chapter marks the first in my fic career (lol) to feature TWO major-player OCs. Enjoy!

_That's the price you pay_ _  
_ _Leave behind your heart and cast away_ _  
_ _Just another product of today_ _  
_ _Rather be the hunter than the prey_ _  
_ _  
_ _Imagine Dragons, "Natural"_   
  
***

  
The house was just as I left it the night before. The fire had burned down and the sunlight through the windows rendered the lights I had left on useless, and looking around it was easy to believe last night never happened. Even the glass of wine he left sitting on the coffee table could have been mine...   
  
I felt warm and unsettled. Was that still the spell? Clearing my throat, I called out, "Katie? Katie?" I stepped out of the living room and stood at the foot of the stairs, letting my voice echo. "Hecate!"   
  
There was silence, but a motion in my periphery made me turn my head in time to see a streak of black fur hurry down the stairs and rush toward me. A sleek, lithe cat, tail aloft and eyes glowing, winding herself around my ankles and purring while a soft voice sounded in my head. _I called for you all night! I was worried sick!_   
  
"I'm sorry," I replied. "I had no idea, I never heard you."   
  
_Do you know where you were?_   
  
"Hell? Maybe?"   
  
She yowled loudly in distress. _What happened?_   
  
"That's a long story." I cast a look at the grandfather clock that stood near the front door. Crowley only gave me an hour... Rather than tell her everything, I shared my memory of what happened after he took me away; Hecate chirped and circled me again before pressing her foot to my leg. _Show me your hand._   
  
I held out my palm, the cut still hot with a glow like dying embers, and she hissed before growling in her throat, her ears folding back and the hair along her spine standing up.   
  
"What is it?" I asked.   
  
She kept growling. _Dark magic._   
  
"What?"   
  
_Dark. Bad._ Evil.   
  
"Katie, calm down--"   
  
_No! She tricked us!_   
  
"I've got a chance, because of her."   
  
_But at what cost?_ She paced back and forth, tail swishing in agitation. _There had to be another way, if we only thought it through..._   
  
"It's done, Kate. Crowley and I are bound and I'm the Queen of Hell, thanks to Rowena."   
  
_Oh, dearest_ ... She rubbed her head against my leg and looked up at me, mewing softly. _How are you feeling?_   
  
I heaved a sigh and started back toward the living room. I doubted I would recover the strength it had taken to cast that spell anytime soon; I was lightheaded, I still felt a little nauseous, and the more time passed, the more aware I was of that sense of him. Nothing specific, but present. And even apart from the magic, my night with Crowley was intense even for me. I faced down a hellhound, for God's sake! No scene before or since would ever hold a candle to that. And if other scenes left me feeling fragile and vulnerable, this one was a force to be reckoned with.   
  
Hecate didn't ask again, following me into the living room, and when I sat down on the couch, she sat beside me in her human form. In appearance, she looked at least a decade older than me, with a soft, caring warmth about her that never once hinted at the depths of loyalty and protectiveness in her. Hers was an ordinary face, but it was the face I loved most in the entire world. But for her golden eyes, you would never know she wasn't human.   
  
Witch-familiar bonds are rare, according to Rowena, and I had only met one other witch with a familiar. Hecate would never tell me about her life before, but she found me about a year after I gained my powers and never left me since. If that binding spell created a connection _similar_ to soulmates, then Katie _was_ my soulmate. I never felt like half of myself without her, but with her I was more. She made my best even better, and my worst more bearable. Her presence kept me centered and the thought of her grounded me when nothing else could. Far from being my servant, she was my guardian, my best friend, my guiding light.   
  
Without a word, she wrapped her arms around me and held me to her, rocking gently back and forth and humming softly. I listened until I recognized the song, then joined her, closing my eyes and falling into the safety and comfort she offered.   
  
_Are you hurt?_ she asked silently, still humming.   
  
_A lot less than I expected_ , I answered, humming with her.   
  
_And how are you feeling?_   
  
I took stock of myself. I had been so overcome with so many hormones the last several hours it was a wonder I hadn't crashed already from the adrenaline and the endorphins. Forget about the spell I cast. And the emotional toll, the mental taxation, the literal torture after the play, the confusion of my new position... I sighed mid-melody. _I just want to sleep._ _  
_ _  
_ _What else do you need?_   
  
I could feel myself sinking, a heavy, weary sadness descending onto me like a physical weight. I played dangerously, always searching for even higher highs, and once the rush was over I paid for every flight with a fall. Hecate was there to soften the landing every time, whether it was subdrop, spell fallout, or a miscalculated risk. Her compassion, care, and empathy could probably put Humpty Dumpty together again, I would bet on it. I just wanted to sit with her arms around me, her voice soothing and her touch gentle, lending her strength and love until I felt like myself again...   
  
"He gave me an hour," I said out loud.   
  
She stopped humming abruptly, her hand coming up to stroke my hair. "What do you mean?" she asked.   
  
"I had to beg to come to you," I explained, "and he gave me one hour before I have to go back."   
  
"I'm coming with you."   
  
"I can't let you do that, Kate."   
  
"You seem to think we're discussing it, missy."   
  
"We're not, because you're not going."   
  
"Like fun I'm not."   
  
"Hecate, it's _Hell!_ How do you think I can let you stay there, of all places--"   
  
"Well, not quite _there_ , darlin', but close enough, I'll give ye that."   
  
Hecate and I both looked up at the voice, the heavy accent and the sing-song timber identifying the speaker before we laid eyes on her. Floor-length dress in a shade of turquoise that complemented her fine complexion and red hair swept into a carefully careless updo, Rowena was always a model of elegance, and the smile she gave as she walked closer to me and my familiar was perfectly indulgent. "Congratulations, dear!" she said. "I dinna think ye'd have the bollocks to go through wi' it, but I hoped ye'd stay the course."   
  
"And look what it's gotten her!" Hecate snapped, catching hold of my wrist and turning my hand for Rowena to see. "What sort of magic is this, and how could you let her do something so dangerous?"   
  
Rowena's eyebrows shot upward as she seated herself across from us. "Whatever do ye mean? The spell is _powerful_ , but dangerous? Hardly."   
  
" _Bullshit!"_   
  
"Someone tell me what's going on," I insisted, feeling uneasy. It was like Hecate to be fierce when she thought something threatened me, but she never swore...   
  
"Something's not right about this," she said, still fixated on the cut. "I can feel it, there's a darkness to it--"   
  
"Well, ye can expect that when ye bind yerself to a demon, then, can't ye? I've never tried it, myself--"   
  
"So you used her as a guinea pig? Rowena, she _trusted_ you!"   
  
"I'm still here!" I reminded both of them. "What did this spell do to me?"   
  
Rowena heaved an aggrieved sigh. "If I had to guess--"   
  
"You _do_ ," Hecate nearly growled.   
  
"--then I would say it's the demon blood. Now _there's_ power for ye, darlin', and I expect ye'll see traces of it, especially at the point of binding--"   
  
"What traces?" I asked.   
  
"How should I know?" she replied. "It's bloody risky combining yer own magic with a demon's, ye ken, there's no telling what will happen."   
  
"And you let her!" Hecate burst out.   
  
"Oh, and would ye rather she be serving an eternal stint in Hell, then?" Rowena snapped, and I felt a warning rustle in the air. "Yer mistress is alive to tell the tale, kitten, and I'd think ye'd show some bloody thanks for it!"   
  
I reached up and rested a hand on Hecate's shoulder. _Let it go, Kate._   
  
She stiffened at my side, then grudgingly relaxed. _Yes, Mistress._   
  
Turning back to Rowena, I asked, "What did you mean, not quite Hell?"   
  
"Exactly what I said," she answered, disregarding Hecate. " _Not quite_ . Did ye think ye actually went to Hell? Please, darlin'."   
  
"Well, all right, then, where did--"   
  
"Likely to his 'palace.'" She put air quotes around the word and layered an extra level of sarcasm on top for good measure. "An abandoned asylum, if ye listen to the rumors--"   
  
_Does this bloodline listen to_ anything _else?_ Hecate scoffed.   
  
"--but either way, he stays topside a great deal of the time. Lucky for you, eh? So," she flashed a knowing smile, "how did it go?"   
  
I stared at her in momentary disbelief before I answered, "He took me to his...palace, I guess, to discuss terms, then he tortured me and I liked it, then he tortured me again and neither of us liked it."   
  
"Details?"   
  
"Are you kidding me, I was having sex with your _son--_ "   
  
"The _spell_ , ye simple tart," she clarified. "It worked, I take it? Ye followed my instructions to the letter?"   
  
An incantation chanted over a potion that had been excessively difficult to brew, then outright disgusting to drink, and I felt it in my bloodstream like too much alcohol as soon as I swallowed it, washing it down with wine. Rowena assured me many times, it was perfectly safe if unsettling, and would take hold the instant my potion-tainted blood mingled with Crowley's.   
  
_Like a disease_ , Hecate observed. _Binding a demon, using demon blood... This is my fault, I should have been more clever--_   
  
"What do ye feel?" Rowena asked.   
  
"Exhausted," I replied, "though that feels like the cost of the magic itself."   
  
"Aye, of course."   
  
"And..." I flexed my hand in discomfort. "It's hard to describe... Have you ever used the spell on someone with magic of their own? Crowley's affinity is fire, and I can't imagine what else this is." I showed her my hand in demonstration, and she took it in hers, examining the cut that continued to burn, though the flicker was only noticeable after I looked for it. Fire. We were bound, sharing pain, anger, sickness, and who knew what else; it seemed conceivable that our different magics left a mark. His on me, and, recalling the watery shimmer I saw on his hand, mine on him.   
  
_Hecate_ , I told her, _maybe you were right, and I was playing with things I didn't understand..._ _  
_ _  
_ _You think?_ she asked.   
  
"Anything else?" Rowena inquired, conjuring a cup of tea and looking like she was settling in for gossip.   
  
"Yeah. I could feel whatever he was feeling, and he felt whatever I did. He--he tortured me, and he collapsed. Like he was in as much pain as I was. I felt sick from the spell, and he said he was queasy. And when he was angry..." I shuddered at the memory of that violent, destructive impulse taking over me, stripping me of empathy and mercy with only a fragile thread tethering me to my humanity. I didn't feel like talking about _that_ .   
  
Hecate reached between us and gave my other hand a reassuring squeeze.   
  
"It worked exactly as it should, then," Rowena told me. "Physical sensation, strong emotion, one will reflect it back to the other as long as the spell holds."   
  
"Which is?"   
  
"It's grounded in yer living blood, dear. What do you think?"   
  
_Until either of you dies, then_ , Hecate decided. _How comforting_ .   
  
"The magic, now," she went on, "that's in the blood as well, so I'd expect evidence of each other's in those cuts. Did ye notice anything along those lines?"   
  
"I don't think we'll be able to use it against each other," I answered, "at least not the way we mean to. We tried, but...it was like we cancelled each other out, and--"   
  
_Don't say anything about what you saw,_ Hecate warned me.   
  
I paused, taken aback. _Why not?_   
  
_Did you realize what that was? Those were all memories, dear one. Everything Crowley has seen and done. I don't know if that's part of the spell or if your magics caused another fluke, but if Rowena doesn't know already, I don't think she should._ _  
_ _  
_ _Why is that?_   
  
Her tone was grim. _We need_ something _to give us an advantage._   
  
"And what?" Rowena prompted, looking annoyed at being excluded from the conversation.   
  
"I...can't really put my finger on it..." I said. "It was like...like we were locked together, like a closed circuit, maybe? And they were running together, but I think I could feel our magic flowing back and forth from one to the other...they started out distinct, but then I couldn't tell them apart after a moment or two."   
  
Rowena sat back, looking thoughtful. "Interesting..."   
  
"How so?" Hecate asked.   
  
To that, Rowena only smiled.   
  
The clock in the hall chimed, and I figured I only had a few minutes left. Hecate shifted beside me and asked, "How are you getting back?"   
  
I shrugged.   
  
"Well, ye're not going back wi'out a few more bullets in the chamber," Rowena announced. "It's into the lion's den ye go, darlin', and the viper's nest soon after, and ye'll need yer wee kitty along, like it or not."   
  
My heart sank. "No, I can't," I protested, "I can't put her in danger like that--"   
  
"You need me, missy," Hecate chided, adding silently, _Please, Mistress, you can't keep us apart now, of all times._   
  
"She's bound to a witch bound to a demon," Rowena reminded me, "who offered herself as a spy, no less. Ye'll have to get used to danger, even where she's concerned. I trust ye'll need her more than ye ever did soon enough."   
  
"Besides," Hecate added with a trace of a smile, "I've been looking after myself long before we were together. You don't have to worry about me."   
  
"I will, anyway."   
  
"I could say the same to you."   
  
"And I've something else for ye," Rowena added, setting aside her tea and moving to sit on my other side. She handed me a small, round locket with a thistle engraved on it, and I opened it. "It's empty."   
  
She smiled. "Is it?" She took it back from me and spoke into it. "Oh, Hecate... _Can ye hear me, darlin'?"_   
  
Hecate and I both gave a jolt of surprise as Rowena's voice echoed in our ears, _and_ in our heads. Her smile widened and she went on, " _Keep in touch, girls. Call me by name, and I'll hear ye."_ She snapped the locket shut. "It's probably best if ye don't let on what this is, aye?"   
  
I nodded, accepting it back from her. She took my hand and looked down at the cut, a tiny flicker from it timed perfectly with the beat of my pulse. "Do ye know what handfasting is?"   
  
"Betrothal of sorts," I answered. "A blood oath to live together for a year and a day, after which the couple either marries or goes separate ways."   
  
"Ye'll be stuck with Fergus a lot longer than that, sad to say," she told me. "Literally, as long as ye both shall live, and if ye don't mind yer wits, that'll be less time than ye think."   
  
I shrugged, trying not to think too hard about it in the moment. "I can't be too surprised. I knew when I made my deal what I was getting into."   
  
She clasped both hands over mine and her smile became one of pity and sad affection. "No, darlin', ye didn't," she replied. "But I think ye'll manage. If anyone could handle this, I'd bet on you."   
  
I opened my mouth to respond, then closed it again, at a loss for words. The sincerity in her voice took me by surprise, and while her plan had by no means gotten me off the hook, she had at least given me a fighting chance. "I can't...I can't thank you enough for what you've done," I told her.   
  
"Come out on top," she said. "That's all the thanks I'll need." She turned and looked to the doorway into the hall and added, "Look sharp, dearie. Here comes yer cue."   
  
I looked up as the sound of high heels against the hardwood floor reached my ears, just in time to see a woman pause on the threshold. She looked like she belonged in my house more than I did, in her black heels, elegantly fitted dress, and tailored blazer she carried over one arm. Her light brown hair fell in soft waves across her shoulders and she carelessly brushed it back as she assessed the three of us on the couch. She finally settled on me and said, "Your Highness?"   
  
"Me?" I asked, taken aback.   
  
Her green eyes danced with amusement. "You _are_ Crowley's new queen, aren't you?"   
  
"Yes..." Something stirred in my mind, taking shape with agonizing slowness. It felt like deja vu; I was certain she looked familiar, and also certain I had never seen her before.   
  
"Well, then, _Your Highness_ ," she repeated, making it sound laughable, "the King wants you back immediately. I'm here to collect you."   
  
"I'm going with her," Hecate insisted, her voice firm and defiant.   
  
"Of course," the woman agreed. "You're the familiar, right? I'm under orders to bring you as well."   
  
"Orders?"   
  
"That's right." She flashed a dazzling smile. "Forgive my manners, Highness, I haven't introduced myself. I'm--"   
  
"Bela." The name sprang to my lips, taking me by surprise as much as anyone else, but I knew I was right. "Bela Talbot."   
  
"Yes," she said slowly, her eyes narrowing slightly in puzzlement. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"   
  
"No," I said, brief memories of her floating through my head, memories that didn't belong to me. "No, and I don't know you, either..."   
  
But Crowley did, and that seemed to mean the same thing. _Hecate_ , I asked, _how in over our heads are we?_


	5. Beggin For Thread

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m thrilled to no end that people are actually reading this! And in a paradoxical twist, that adds to the pressure of writing! Lol More plot coming in and a few things I didn’t plan on but decided to roll with. Enjoy!

_Strapped down to something that you don’t understand_

_Don’t know what you were getting yourself into_

_You should have known_

_Secretly I think you knew_

_BANKS, “Beggin For Thread”_

***

_It doesn’t_ look _like an abandoned asylum._

_And our home didn’t look like a split-level fixer-upper by the time I finished with it, did it?_

Bela had taken Hecate and I back to Crowley’s domain within moments of appearing at my house. Hecate was alert and attentive, taking in our new surroundings without leaving my side; I was more and more aware of my connection with Crowley now we were once again in proximity. The heat in my blood left me feeling feverish, I had that tip-of-the-tongue feeling when memories refuse to place themselves or even take shape, and my sense of him was much calmer than earlier, pacified… _slaked_.

“Where is he?” I asked Bela, trying to form the words with a throat dry with nerves.

“Not here,” she replied unhelpfully. “Matters of state, you understand. He’ll be along when it suits him.”

Hecate briefly touched her hand to my shoulder, asking, “Are you his spokesman, or something?”

“Or something,” she answered.

_Well. Good to know she’s so straightforward._

_She works for Crowley,_  I reasoned.  _Can’t expect anything less_.

Bela moved through the room like she was at ease, leaving Hecate and I standing while she draped her jacket over the back of an armchair and seated herself. She sat staring at us for a minute or two, a haughty smile on her face while we stared back, and eventually she said, “Might as well get comfortable. I don’t know how long it will be.”

Hecate steered me with a touch to the sofa, sitting down and taking me with her. I didn’t miss the concerned look she gave me, and I replied,  _I’m fine._

“So,” I said to Bela, “he sent you to fetch me back, and I can’t decide if that’s classified as grunt work or high priority.”

“What do you think?” she asked.

“I think he gave you the job because it’s either very important or not important at all. Which makes you either one or the other as well.”

Her smirk never wavered. “And by extension,  _you’re_  either one or the other. Trying to figure out which?”

“Trying to figure out who he’s got keeping eyes on me.”

“Don’t you trust me, your Highness?”

“Does Crowley?”

Hecate sat up a little straighter, and I knew we were on the same page.

Bela shrugged carelessly. “Crowley doesn’t trust anybody. He knows them. He knows who will turn on him, who will suck up to gain favor, who will follow orders… You get the idea. He doesn’t  _need_ to trust if he understands the game pieces, how they move, and how to play them.”

“So, are you a pawn, a rook, or what?”

“I’m whatever he needs, whenever he needs it.”

_A queen, then?_ I asked Hecate.

_That sounds like the implication,_ she answered.  _A wild card, at the absolute least._

_We’ll have to keep an eye on her._

_Agreed_.

“It sounds like he trusts you, after all,” I went on.

“I’ve proved myself,” she replied. “He knows I won’t cross him unless there’s enough in it for me, and he’s made sure it would take a steep price.”

_She’s important enough to buy,_  Hecate remarked.  _But is she important enough to share valuable information with?_

“So, because you’ve proved yourself, you get assigned to bring the queen back to the castle.”

Just when I thought she couldn’t look any more superior, she raised the bar. “I’m not stupid enough to let it get out that a witch-in-training scammed her way out of a deal and onto the throne,” she replied smoothly. “I’m not about to destabilize him any further when it’s no secret his rule is in jeopardy. Not if I can help it.”

“He’s made it worth your loyalty to help keep him in power?”

She leaned back into the chair, her eyes hardening. “I understand you’re new here,  _your Highness,_  and you might not have picked up a brochure at the welcoming center, so I’ll try to clue you in. Hell is a mess. Earth missed the apocalypse but we had a coup.  _Everyone_  thought Lucifer would win his final showdown, but Crowley was moving against him long before then, and as soon as Lucifer was eliminated, Crowley stepped up. He had a new vision for Hell and he made it happen, putting an end to a lot of the old ways. And most recently, a Knight of Hell stood to challenge him, promising a return to the golden age and then some.

“Do you have any idea how many enemies he has? How many want him dead and out of the picture? What do you think will happen to those loyal to him if he falls? What do you think will happen to  _you?_  If Crowley isn’t worth my loyalty, he’s certainly worth my self-preservation, and if you’re as clever as you believe you are, you’ll come around to that line of thinking.”

_Well_ , Hecate concluded,  _she’s_  definitely  _Crowley’s_.

I didn’t respond to either of them, shifting uncomfortably where I sat. I was so  _hot!_  I rested my palm against my forehead and my skin was scorching to the touch. Was this the demon blood, or his fire affinity?

“You’ll get used to it.”

I gave a start at the sound of his voice and beside me, Hecate did the same. Crowley stood just a few feet away, closing the distance to where we sat. Bela moved to stand as he approached, but he motioned for her to keep her seat and regarded me. His expression was neutral, and I couldn’t sense anything from him beyond that pacified feeling. He didn’t repeat himself, but the quirk of his eyebrow as I continued to fidget with the heat in my flesh was clue enough to guess what he was talking about.

Maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised  _he_  could guess my disturbance.

“Bela, sweetheart,” he said, walking between us and settling into a vacant chair, “I see you’ve met Endora.”

She turned to me with a spark of amusement in her eyes. “Endora?” she repeated, laughter coloring her voice. “Where’s Samantha?”

“Having an emotional heart-to-heart with Squirrel, last I checked,” Crowley replied. He turned his eyes on Hecate, sitting next to me and taking in every word spoken. “And this must be the familiar.”

“Hecate,” I said, his dismissive tone already rubbing me the wrong way.

He gave me an ironic look. “Really? A witch’s companion named  _Hecate?_  You couldn’t come up with something original?”

“She didn’t name me,” Katie corrected him.

“She’s not my pet,” I added, “and everything you have against me has nothing to do with her, so don’t be an ass.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Is this your first edict as queen?” he asked.

“I’m serious,” I told him. “She’s not a second class citizen, and anyone that tries to treat her that way will answer to me.”

He stared at me for a long moment and I stared back, refusing to be intimidated. He could punish, torture, do whatever he wanted to me, but if he thought I would let him disrespect Katie, he thought wrong.

I only identified the flash of approval I felt for what it was by the smile he gave me. “Make a note of it, Bela,” he said. “Hecate is to be afforded the utmost respect by order of the Queen. Anyone in violation of that command is hers to deal with.”

Bela gave a brief nod. “Of course, your Majesty.”

_They’re laughing at you_ , Hecate said in a small voice.

_I don’t care,_  I replied firmly.  _He can leave you out of his problem with me._

“As for your cover,” he went on, “that will take some consideration. One mistake, and we’re all screwed.”

“You’re actually going along with this spy thing?” Bela questioned.

“She bargained for the job, love. Begging on hands and knees, she wanted it so bad.”

I glared at him, ignoring Bela’s smug look and the traitorous stirring in my body at his words. He looked at me like he knew exactly what he was doing to me and went on, “She drove such a good bargain, and I daresay she enjoyed our negotiations even more than I did. She was certainly satisfied with my terms.”

Hecate chose tactful silence and I kept glaring. He didn’t look away, that arrogant light in his eyes unwavering. My insides burned with humiliation and hunger; his voice alone would be enough to get me going, but the innuendos calling back everything he did to me the night before were another level of torment. That he talked of it openly was mortifying…and turning me on more than I would have preferred under the circumstances. And he  _knew_ , the petty bastard.

A slight smirk, and he continued, “I don’t like the idea of you running amok, so Bela here will keep an eye on you as much as possible.”

“How is that a good cover?”

“You’re going to be her pet.” He snapped his fingers and something tightened around my neck. Startled, I lifted my hands and groped at it, feeling supple leather and a steel buckle beneath my fingers.

A collar. The son of a bitch put  _a collar_  on me.

“Mistress Bela likes witches,” he said. “She enjoyed scamming her fair share back in the day, and now she has one at her beck and call. How does that sound, Bela, darling?”

“You’re too generous, your Majesty,” she replied, winking at me.

“Generous?” I said, outraged. “Are you insane?” I fumbled at the buckle but the leather fused together where it overlapped, fastened securely.

“That collar doesn’t come off until I say so,” Crowley said, “and as long as you’re wearing it, you’ll do exactly as your new mistress says. Understood?”

“I’m not doing this!” I drew on my magic to cut through the leather and felt a ripple of heat at the edges of my power, and before I could make the cut my hand froze in place. His power holding me was hot and my cut palm burned in echo, but when I focused my awareness on the magic, the separate lines were woven together, building off each other even as they clashed.

“Think about it, Broomhilda,” he told me. “You won’t survive court on your own, much less Hell. This keeps you close enough to my circle to keep you untouchable but far enough away that no one will suspect you. You can cooperate, or I can put some spellwork into that collar to keep you obedient whether you like it or not. Your choice, love.”

I stopped fighting his grip despite the anger still simmering in my veins. Hecate rested her hand on my arm, tentative, and said,  _It…it makes sense, Missy. I know you don’t like it, but I think you should go along with it._

_You want me to debase and degrade myself?_  I asked.

_I want you to do whatever keeps you safest of your own free will, rather than be a complete puppet._

The collar was by no means tight, but I felt as if it was choking me. I couldn’t bring myself to agree to this. The deal for my power was to claim autonomy, not to hand it away down the line.

Crowley honed in on me, leaning toward me in his chair, with his elbows on his knees and his fingers laced together. “We had a deal, Endora,” he said, his voice low and firm. “You hold up your end, or I hold up mine. Take it or leave it.”

“She seems defiant, your Majesty,” Bela remarked. “I’m not sure I appreciate that in my pets.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” he assured her, “she’ll come around.” He leaned back again and waved his fingers, watching me expectantly.

I had a moment to wonder what he was doing before there was a rush of sensation at my clit, something teasing and stroking with a precision bordering on deliberation. Almost immediately, my spine bowed and my hips bucked into it, and I clutched at the arm of the sofa as a moan burst from me unchecked.

Hecate’s eyes widened in alarm and she tightened her grip on my arm. “Are you okay, Missy?”

“Oh, Missy, is it?” Bela asked. She seemed unfazed, watching me squirm without a trace of emotion. “I’ll have to remember that one.”

I couldn’t answer, my eyes locked with Crowley’s as the sensation intensified. I had no control, my body writhing and every sound growing harder and harder to hold back. He didn’t look away, staring like a cat intent on a mouse while my pleasure rose higher with alarming momentum.

Hecate paused as she slowly understood what was happening, then glanced from me to Crowley and back again, looking awkward. She had never been comfortable with the idea of sex, or sexuality as a whole, finding it personally disturbing. Her bonding with a deviant like me seemed like a cruel trick of fate, and I tried to shield her from it as much as possible. I never allowed my graphic thoughts or memories anywhere near her and spared her details of my exploits, and we each respected each other’s needs while seeing to our own.

Crowley had no such reservations.

“Stop,” I said, gasping; the sensation escalated almost to its peak and halted, keeping me at the point of near-climax. I reached for Hecate’s hand, seeing the revulsion in her eyes and trying to reassure her. Her body tensed and she nearly flinched away from me, hands moving to cover her ears and drown me out.  _I’m sorry,_  she said, frightened and upset,  _I’m sorry, I can't…_  She turned away and ducked her head, humming to herself so she couldn’t hear me.

I was nearly out of my mind with it, unable to sit still, unable to come, hurting for my familiar and cursing Crowley. It was a perfect torture, having seen what a shameless, pleading mess I devolved to the night before, and it wouldn’t harm him as well like this morning. But it was seeing Katie so wretched that struck the real blow.

I threw my head back and cried out again, and he shuddered where he sat, something in his gaze shifting. I was wound tight enough to snap, digging my nails into my palms until the skin broke, and he clenched a fist, his jaw tightening and an intense look in his eyes. It was agony, feeling so much yet never allowed release, an agony he mirrored, and neither of the others saw it.

“Crowley,” I pleaded, “stop…” I couldn’t handle any more, and the closer I got to unraveling, the clearer it was he was close behind. “Crowley, please!” I nearly screamed.

He waved his hand again; everything stopped but the tension in my body didn’t abate. He sat rigid and unmoving, on the same edge as I was. “Last chance, pet,” he said, a rough tremor in his voice giving him away, “are you going to be a good girl for Mistress Bela?”

He wasn’t letting  _me_  off the hook, then. He bruised my pride, humiliated me, and distressed my familiar, but he wasn’t about to embarrass himself. I wanted to defy him out of spite, but for Hecate’s sake I yielded. “Yes,” I replied, hoping he could feel the seething ire coiling in my chest.

He narrowed his eyes; yes, he could, and in retaliation he pressed, “Yes, what?”

Hecate hesitated, slowly reaching towards me to clutch my hand in hers.  _I’m sorry, Mistress…_

Taking a deep breath, I unclenched my jaw and said, “I’ll be good for Mistress Bela.”

Bela smiled and while I felt Crowley’s mild triumph, his expression didn’t change. “I’ll expect you to behave for her, in addition to playing your part and keeping an eye on the court. If she tells me you’re being difficult, consider today an idea of your punishment. If she says you’re being a good pet…you know how I reward those who make me happy.”

Hecate squirmed and I apologized,  _I didn’t know it would be like this, Katie._

_It’s fine, Missy,_  she replied.

_No, it’s not._  “Hecate is sensitive to certain factors,” I said. “She finds certain acts distasteful, and I expose her to those factors as little as possible to keep from upsetting her. Doing so on purpose is uncalled for and  _highly_  disrespectful.” I paused a beat for emphasis, then added a snide, “Your Majesty.”

_If you’re going to fuck me, don’t you dare do it in front of her._  The words went unspoken, but no one missed them. I had no idea if I had enough leverage to keep pushing, but it was clear enough that when it came to my familiar, I was ready to fight. I read a measure of respect in Bela’s eyes, but all Crowley said was, “Behave yourself, and we won’t have to worry about that, will we?”

_I don’t like this, Missy,_  Hecate said.  _You’ve made yourself too vulnerable for my sake. He’ll use me against you._

_You were willing to risk yourself for me, Katie,_ I replied.  _I won’t do any less for you._

_And he knows that now. I’ll be his leverage to get what he wants from you._

There was a cold feeling in my stomach as the truth of her words sank in. I didn’t regret standing up for her, but Crowley would have no problem threatening her to force my cooperation. She was never afraid for herself, but I knew the thought of what he could make me do to keep her safe would torment her.

He still looked at me like he expected further resistance, if not now then later. And if he tried to harm Hecate, he  _should_  expect it. I had gotten the best of him once and doubtless he would try to keep it from happening a second time…but if I could do it once, then I could do it again. I was bound and collared, not broken.

It wouldn’t be easy, but that didn’t scare me. I had always preferred high stakes.


End file.
